


'Con' Your Way Into My Heart

by GuixonLove, MapleleafCameo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Conventions, Crack, Crossover... Sort of, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, It's For a Case, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Oral Sex, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuixonLove/pseuds/GuixonLove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A convention, a case, some costumes and some shipping. What's Sherlock got John into this time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Con' Your Way Into My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the fabulous chucksauce. Thanks for making sure everything looked and sounded spectacular!!! We really appreciate it!
> 
> Kudos and Comments are much appreciated!!!
> 
> Now with [artwork](http://impossiblegirl-loves-badwolf.tumblr.com/post/146107957486/they-entered-the-flat-and-climbed-the-stairs-john) by the absolutely fantastic [thetwelfthpanda](http://thetwelfthpanda.tumblr.com/)  
> 

“Sherlock? What is this?”

Sherlock stepped into John’s room, an innocent smile on his face. “Oh good. You found it. Quickly, John, change into that. We have a case!”

John looked bemused. “Um, Sherlock what is going on? Why are my bathrobe and towel on my bed?”

“I told you. We have a case,” Sherlock replied, his expression shifting to one of condescension. He walked over to the bed and picked up a black shopping bag, handing it to John. “You need to wear this as well. Now hurry!”

Without waiting for a response, Sherlock turned and walked downstairs and presumably to his own bedroom; John could hear him shutting his door. John sighed and shook his head. He reached into the bag and pulled out a soft blue t-shirt and coral striped pyjama bottoms.

 _‘What the hell is he dragging me into now?’_ he thought to himself before tossing the bag onto his bed and pulling his jumper off.

 

Ten minutes later, John was pacing back and forth in the sitting room, waiting for Sherlock. His phone beeped in the pocket of his bathrobe, alerting him to the cab’s arrival downstairs. He turned to shout down the hall but stopped short; his breath caught in his chest when his gaze landed on Sherlock and the outfit he had on.

Somehow Sherlock had tamed his curls, the curls John did not ever think about sinking his hands into, not ever. His hair was slicked back and smooth, but that wasn't what really caught his eye or made him glad he had a bathrobe on covering up certain...bits. Sherlock was tapping away on his phone, seemingly oblivious to John's reaction of the skin tight, black leather trousers he was wearing, the black turtleneck sweater and standard issue Doc Martins.

 _'Breathe,'_ John told himself. _'Breathe.'_

He had to remind himself again that in order to live, one needed to have working lungs a few seconds later. Sherlock pocketed his phone, somehow fitting it into the back of those trousers, and swept on a long, black leather duster he had pulled off of the hook. It had been hidden underneath the familiar Belstaff, and it had been overlooked.

“Er, um, you’re hot...I mean you’re hot in that, I mean you’re going to be, uh, too warm. Today, Outside. In the heat.”

Sherlock glanced back at John with an unreadable expression. “Are you feeling alright, John?”

“What? I’m fine,” John hastily replied. He cleared his throat and pushed past Sherlock, making his way down the steps leading to the front door. As he was reaching for the doorknob, he heard another door opening and turned to see Mrs. Hudson stepping out of her flat.

“Boys? Where are you going dressed like that?”

“It’s for a case, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said as he came down the stairs. “We should be back before dark.”

Mrs. Hudson chuckled warmly before looking over at John with a knowing smile. “It would appear you’ve got your work cut out for you,” she said, winking cheekily. John frowned.

“I’m not sure I-”

“John! The game is on!” Sherlock called from the pavement, standing beside the waiting cab. John shook his head and gave Mrs. Hudson one last smile before making his way out of the flat and climbing into the car.

The ride to the city centre didn't take as long as John wanted. He was hoping to have more time to adjust to this new Sherlock. But traffic was surprisingly light, and they soon pulled up in front of the enormous building where a massive crowd had formed outside, waiting to enter.

The cab dropped them off at the door, and John and Sherlock entered the queue waiting to get in.

“I assume you have tickets? An event this big, you’d have to get them weeks in advance.”

“No worries. The head of security owes me a favour.”

“Of course he does.”

John fretted a bit, but when the reached the head of the queue, the security man winked at Sherlock and let them in. John looked around the main floor in amazement. There were people there in regular street clothes and some in T-shirts from various fandoms with sayings like ‘Not All Who Wander Are Lost’ or ‘I Grok Spock’, but it was the elaborate costumes that really caught his eye. Some he recognised, like the Marvel Comics ones or Star Wars. The little girl with the long blonde hair with a stuffed toy chameleon on her shoulder and carrying a frying pan was totally unfamiliar.

He stood there wondering where they would head to first when a young woman dressed in a skin-tight spandex outfit passed them, and wolf whistled. “Nice, gentlemen! And a shipped couple too. Well played.”

“Um, Sherlock what is she talking about?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave John an impatient expression. “I did research, John. We’re dressed as characters from the cinema. You are someone called Arthur Dent, and I am a villain who goes by the name of Khan. Do keep up.”

“Yes, I know *that*. That doesn’t explain what that woman meant by shipped couple,” John said, unsure of whether he wanted to punch his flatmate or snog him senseless.

“Never mind that. We have work to do.” And without another word, Sherlock strode off. John sighed before shaking his head and quickly following after.

They soon came to a stop in front of a door with an ‘Employee’s Only’ sign hanging on it. Sherlock pulled a key card out of the pocket of his duster and swiped it against a small pad on the wall by the door. A small light flashed green, and the door unlocked.

“Um, Sherlock? Any time you’d care to fill me in would be great,” John hissed as they stepped inside what appeared to be an empty employee break room. “Why are we here?”

“I got a tip from one of the Homeless Network. There is a rather large drug smuggling operation going on here under the cover of the convention. Lots of items being moved due to the number of people coming in from out of town. Quite a complex operation.”

“Why didn't you just go to the police with this? This is their job?”

“Couldn’t. Some of my Network is involved.”

“Oh, so you're protecting them?”

“In a manner of speaking. I am trying to get them out of this. There’s one or two who stumbled into it by accident, don't know what is really going on, just needed some extra funds. Now they’re caught up and can't get out.”

“That’s very--that’s very human of you, you know.”

“Oh shut up. I’d do the same for you.”

“Um, thanks, I think.”

They quietly made their way over to a bank of lockers set up against one of the walls. Sherlock reached inside the pocket of his duster once more and pulled out his lock picking set.

“How much stuff do you have in that thing?” John asked in astonishment. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder and smirked.

“You’d be surprised how deep the pockets are,” he replied before turning back and working on unlocking the first locker.

“So, what exactly are we looking for?”

Sherlock popped open the first locker and stepped aside to begin working on the next one. “Anything that might indicate when and where the next swap is going to take place.”

John nodded before looking inside the locker. A dalmatian print purse and a matching fur coat hung on the hook inside. “I didn’t realize Cruella De Ville had moved into the drug business.”

“Who?” Sherlock asked without looking up from the locker he was now searching.

“No one. Just… Just someone from a children’s movie.”

Sherlock frowned before continuing to rummage through a backpack. The two of them worked in silence, making their way down the locker bank and checking inside each one with little to show for their efforts.

Ten minutes passed when they heard the sound of the door to the break room opening. Sherlock stiffened beside John. Springing into action, he dropped the satchel he was holding, stuffing something into the pocket of his coat before shutting the locker.

“What do we do?” John hissed, turning to glare at Sherlock, who came and stood in front of him.

“Follow my lead,” he replied before pushing John back against the lockers and pressing their lips together.

John let out a faint ‘mmph’ and then he stopped thinking. He didn’t care who was coming towards them, he didn't care about the cold metal pressed against his back, he didn't care that this was his best friend kissing him. Well, he actually did care about that a great deal. In fact, he wanted the feel of Sherlock’s soft and malleable lips to go on for a very long time. He reached up and put his hands on Sherlock's head. The stiffness of the product he had used to slick back his hair was not off-putting, nor did it bring him back to the reality of what they were doing. All it did was make him want to get Sherlock into a shower and shampoo his hair and free those magnificent curls. John felt his right leg begin to bend as if he wanted to climb Sherlock’s long frame. He was this close to wrapping it around his waist when the voice of the intruder called out,

“‘Ere, whatcha fink you’re doing? Yer not allowed back ‘ere! I don’t care ‘ow handsy you want ter get yer not doin’ it in my break room!”

Sherlock slowly let go of John’s face. John didn't dare open his eyes, but he could feel Sherlock’s weighted stare.

“Yes, quite right, sorry about that. We were finding some place to perfect our ‘shipping.’ Come along, Arthur.”

As they walked away from the disgruntled employee, John whispered to Sherlock, “Arthur?”

“Merely staying in character, as I am sure you were when you kissed me just now.”

John’s heart which had been beating very fast from the interruption and the lip locking plummeted into his shoes, but he said nothing.

Sherlock continued, “Better yet, however, I found what we came here for.”

“What now?” John asked, thankful that his voice sounded halfway normal considering what had just happened.

“Now, we call Lestrade and let him know where the meetup is going to be. We can do that in the cab on the way back to Baker Street,” Sherlock replied. A few awkward minutes passed as they slowly made their way through a myriad of con-goers, ignoring requests for pictures, before they stepped outside and hailed a cab.

After giving the driver their address, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cell phone that clearly didn’t belong to him since the case had a picture of some anime character on it. As Sherlock began to look through the contents of the phone, John couldn’t help but study Sherlock himself, wondering if the kiss between them really meant so little.

As if he could sense John’s eyes on him, Sherlock lifted his head and looked over at him. “What is it? I can you hear you thinking loudly enough,” he said in a bored tone.

“It’s nothing,” John replied, turning his head to look out the window at the passing scenery. Perhaps he could make himself forget about this whole afternoon. After a wank and a cold shower, that is.

When the cab pulled up in front of Baker Street, John jumped out of the car, leaving Sherlock to pay the fare. As he was pulling his keys out of his pocket, he sensed a presence behind him.

“It wasn’t all just a ruse to me,” Sherlock said in a low voice. His warm breath grazed the shell of John’s ear, sending shivers up his spine.

“Wha...what do you mean?”

“John, I was there. I felt your tongue in my mouth.”

“Well, um, er, about that…”

“John?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s go upstairs and finish this discussion off of the streets and away from Mycroft’s cameras and prying eyes.”

“Oh, okay.”

They entered the flat and climbed the stairs. John was wondering what Sherlock was implying and if he meant what he thought he meant or was this just another one of his crazy schemes. He walked into the sitting room and was about to turn to speak to Sherlock when he was grabbed from behind and thrown against the door.

“John.”

“Sherlock?”

“John, let me do this. You know you want it.”

“I might, but what happened to married to your work?”

“I’ve suddenly become an adulterer.”

“Suddenly?”

“Perhaps not so sudden. I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time.”

“Oh?” John felt a bit confused, a lot excited, a pinch of anticipation and a great deal of lust as he realised what was pressing up against his leg was not Sherlock’s mobile. That was still in his back pocket.

“Oh God, yes.” He pulled Sherlock toward him and kissed him soundly.

Lips moved, hearts beat rapidly, and Sherlock’s hands roamed along John’s back until they dropped to John’s chastely tied bathrobe, his long fingers plucking at the knot. They edged slowly up the front of his t-shirt, shivering at the cool fingertips on his overheated skin.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening.” John murmured. “I’m dreaming.” His eyes slid shut and his head fell back against the wall.

Sherlock’s deep chuckle rumbled next to his ear, dark and pleased.

“I can assure you, John, this is definitely not a dream.’

John bit back a moan when Sherlock playfully nipped at his earlobe and trailed kisses along his jawline.

“Or do I need to prove that you’re not dreaming?”

John’s eyes flew open when Sherlock moved away. Sherlock sank to his knees in front of him and leaned forward, nuzzling the tented material of his pyjama bottoms.

“Jesus,” he murmured, reaching down and sliding his fingers through Sherlock’s slicked back hair, mussing it up in the process.

“Not quite,” Sherlock replied cheekily, looking up at John from under his lashes as he began to mouth along the outline of John’s cock, soaking the thin cotton material.

“Berk,” John huffed a laugh, playfully tugging on Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock pulled away and grinned up at him before he slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of the pyjama bottoms and tugged them off, letting them pool at John’s feet.

John’s breath caught in his chest as Sherlock’s tongue darted out and hesitantly swirled around the flushed head before he wrapped his lips around John and slowly swallowed him down. In all of his late night fantasies and wanks in the shower, John never thought this could feel as good as it actually did. The feeling of Sherlock’s tongue on his aching cock was enough to make him want to fuck Sherlock’s mouth until he came but he held back. He wanted to do this right.

“Bed, Sherlock. Now.”

Sherlock looked up at John, almost demurely, his long lashes fluttering. “Only if you’re sure.”

John sighed and then made to move forward, forgetting about the pyjama bottoms still around his feet. Fortunately, Sherlock caught him before he fell and helped him out of the tangled mess. He then led him through the kitchen and down the hallway toward his bedroom. Sherlock made quick work of the rest of John’s clothing and started to remove his own costume.

“Do you mind leaving that one, for a bit?”

‘Really? Leather, John?”

John blushed.

Sherlock’s eyes followed how far down that blush actually went and bit his lip.“Yeah, well, just for a bit.”

Sherlock did remove the duster--it was hot and heavy, and not in a good way. He left on everything else and pushed John backward until they fell back onto the bed. The weight and feel of the leather pressed against John’s cock made John moan. And then he felt just how turned on Sherlock was.

“Oh god!”

Sherlock placed a finger in his mouth and placed it on John’s already perky nipple. He pulled and tweaked it, swirled his finger around. At the same time, he slowly very slowly moved his hips back and forth, so they just barely brushed against John. Now and then he would lower his hips a bit and grind down on John's pelvic area. Leaning forward, he braced himself on one arm and looked deeply into John’s eyes. Somehow he made his voice deeper, more menacing, damn sexier. It sent a shiver through John.

“You think you’re safe? It is an illusion. A comforting lie told to protect you. Enjoy these final moments of peace. For I will make you come again and again. So, shall we begin?”

“Did...um, did you just quote Star Trek Into Darkness at me?”

Looking a bit unsure of himself, Sherlock said, “Did you like it?”

“Oh my god!” John tugged on Sherlock’s arm and pulled him closer to him, wrapped his bare arms around the clothed form and plundered his mouth with his tongue. He eventually broke the kiss and stared up at Sherlock, lips swollen and eyes dark with lust.

“Take this off. I want to see you,” he panted, tugging at the hem of Sherlock’s turtleneck.

Sherlock slowly sat up, straddling John’s thighs and took his time as he pulled his shirt off. John’s tongue snaked out and wet his lips, trying to imagine what Sherlock’s skin would taste like. Curiosity got the better of him, and he sat up and licked Sherlock’s collarbone.

Sherlock grunted softly and brought his hands up to rest on John’s shoulders, sliding them down the expanse of his lover’s back.

“Bit eager, are we?”

“You have no bloody idea,” John replied, moving his head down slightly so he could suck on one of Sherlock’s nipples. “Now shut up and take your trousers off.”

“And you call me bossy,” Sherlock smirked as he pushed John back and climbed off of the bed, quickly unfastening the fly and wriggling out of the leather trousers.

Fully naked, he looked down at John with a mischievous grin. He dropped onto the bed and stretched beside John, wrapped a long arm around John’s waist, pulling him closer. “Where were we?”

To finally have Sherlock in his arms, skin to skin, in Sherlock’s bed, was beyond any hope or expectation John had ever imagined. Lying on his back, he pulled Sherlock on top, the weight of his long body helping to solidify that this was real. One arm went around Sherlock’s waist, and John traced his fingers down to that magnificent arse and grabbed on. His other hand went to the back of Sherlock's neck; he guided his head close, and he pressed their mouths together. There would never be enough time to kiss Sherlock as deeply as he wanted to, as often as he wanted to. He may have been on edge all day, and he wasn't sure he’d last long once they got started, but he was going to enjoy it while it lasted, even if it killed him. While John was positioning Sherlock just so, Sherlock in the meantime snaked a hand between them and wrapped his hand around them both.

John thrust his hips up and moaned into Sherlock’s mouth; their breath mingled together, he breathed him in, mixing their molecules. Sherlock managed to move his hand with a little twist and rub his thumb over the head of John’s cock.

John moaned again. “Oh fuck! You are so good at this!”

Rocking and thrusting their hips together, John could feel his orgasm building. Sherlock sped up his hand, pumping John’s cock at a quick pace. The added friction driving John closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me, John,” he rumbled, tucking his head into the crook of John’s neck and biting his shoulder.

As soon as Sherlock’s teeth sank into his skin, John stiffened beneath Sherlock. He thrusted up into Sherlock’s hand once more before his release rolled over him. He threw his head back and came with a loud cry. His cock throbbed as it spurted warm come, landing in thick streaks on his stomach and coating Sherlock’s hand.

He forced his eyes open and watched in awe as Sherlock wrapped the hand covered in John’s release and began stroking himself, desperately trying to get himself off. An idea popped into John’s head, and he soon sprang into action.

Wrapping a leg around Sherlock’s, John managed to flip them over, reversing their positions. Without another word, he slid down the length of Sherlock’s body and wrapped his lips around Sherlock’s leaking cock, groaning softly at the combined taste of Sherlock’s precome and his own release. It didn’t take long before Sherlock let out a low moan and came, which John swallowed hungrily.

Sated, he pulled off of Sherlock and was about to collapse on top of him, when he remembered the mess. He looked around rather fuzzily when he spotted part of his costume.

“Did you know this towel would come in handy?”

“John, really, I am surprised at you,” Sherlock admonished in a quiet, spent voice.

John lay beside Sherlock, his leg flung over the long, lanky ones and pulled Sherlock closer to him. He rested his head in the crook of Sherlock’s neck and willed his heart to slow. He rather hoped his refractory period was as good as it had been in his younger days.

“Oh?” he asked.

“Yes. You should always know the importance of having a towel.”

John chuckled. “I admit I’m surprised that not only are you familiar with, but actually retained information about Star Trek and Hitchhiker’s. I mean after all, it is ...space, you know, that place with the solar system.”

“Ah, yes, well. About that…”

“Hmm?” John was beginning to drift off, but he paid a bit more attention to the tone of Sherlock’s voice and lifted his head a bit.

 

“Well, I--erm--, may have arranged this whole day.”

Really awake now, John sat up and looked at Sherlock. “Sherlock, what did you do?”

“Well it is possible that I may have been curious about your reading habits of late. I mean I know you are far too interested in that ridiculous spy with the numbers, and I wondered if there was something else you might read. I found a copy of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on your bookshelf, and I watched some of your other movies. I knew the convention was coming up, and I had a connection to get tickets. Then in pursuing some stray facts and thinking about costume ideas I came across a website that had other stories written about different characters.” He paused, his expression far too enthusiastic. “John, you really should read some of them. They have been quite eye opening--it gave me ideas. I thought perhaps if we became two of the characters in the stories, then maybe you would...kiss me.”

A fond expression crossed John’s face. “You mean there was no case?”

“No.”

“So you dressed us up and snuck us into a convention, broke into someone’s locker, and then stole their phone, all so you could kiss me?”

When Sherlock didn’t respond, John could only laugh. He really did love this man, no matter what shenanigans he pulled just to get them to this point. If nothing else, it just made John love him even more.

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on Tumblr (impossiblegirl-loves-badwolf & MapleLeafCameo) and Twitter (Run_CleverGirl & MapleleafCameo)


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